


Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

by Devilc



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Other, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Street's having a crisis.  Tim Riggins is there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rachel Wilder (rwilder)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwilder/gifts).



> A cleaned up and slightly expanded version of a drabble.

A year ago if you had asked Jason Street to come up with a list of words to describe Tim Riggins, _domestic_ would never have come to mind. "Loyal" and "Quiet" and "Strong" and "Skirt-Chaser" yes. Domestic, no.

He showed up six weeks ago, duffle slung over his shoulder, his little mutt, Skeeter, nipping at his heels. "Your mom says Erin's really sick," he said, and his eyes added, _and you look like shit, too._

There's no guest room in their teeny two bedroom apartment. Tim just unrolled his sleeping bag next to Noah's crib, or he sacked out on the couch, depending on what he was in the mood for. (Or depending on what was on TV late at night.)

On good days, he helped Erin around the house and took Noah to the park to play on the days she had chemo, or if she didn't, he still went so that she could have a long, uninterrupted nap in the afternoon.

He didn't go to the hospital, though, when Erin siezed and had a high fever that turned into pneumonia. Tim Riggins doesn't do hospitals, and Jason made sure that everybody got that.)

There was coffee and toast and cereal and eggs, and a plate of dinner (whether he wanted it or not) waiting for him every night when he came home after visiting hours. It's man food: Kraft Mac&amp;Cheese, tater-tots, chili, hamburgers, meatloaf, green beans, oven fried chicken. It's there. And Tim made it. For him.

Noah's little pants and shorts and shirts and socks do not get neatly folded and put away, but they're stacked in clean piles, and Jason kind of liked folding them -- he found the mindlessness of the chore comforting. (It helped take his mind off of how much he missed Erin's bright red hair, of how pale and drawn she looked.)

He came home one night in April to find Tim, Noah, and Skeeter sacked out on the master bed, Green Eggs and Ham splayed across Tim's chest, Skeeter snuggled up to Noah. The three of them must have spent a long day at the park.

He turned to go into the bathroom and brush his teeth when Tim's voice, low and sleep muzzy, caught him. "Bad day, Six?"

_They talked to me about it being time for Erin to come home for "palliative care" or, better yet, go to a hospice. Her hair's growing back in, and it's curlier than before. She's happy she won't die bald._ The words tumbled through his mind. He took a moment to frame his thoughts, to find the right words. But they didn't come out. "I'm scared, Tim," he said in a broken little squawk.

"Jay ..." Tim said, almost more breath than word, reaching his and over. His eyes said the rest.

Tim loved him.

At one point in his life, Jason took Tim's love and his friendship for granted, a given.

But not any more. He understood, now, what a rare and precious thing unconditional love was.

And he would need Tim, and Tim's love, more than ever in the coming weeks.


End file.
